


New Day Breaking

by Angylsmuse, Rina9294



Series: Fourth Pass [32]
Category: Dragonriders of Pern - Anne McCaffrey
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-18
Updated: 2017-01-18
Packaged: 2018-09-18 10:37:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,827
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9380720
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Angylsmuse/pseuds/Angylsmuse, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rina9294/pseuds/Rina9294
Summary: Originally posted August 2003.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted August 2003.

**_P10.08.16_**  
_Babalon Weyr Weyrbowl_  
**_Early morning._**

Weyrlingmaster second K’jan loved these times the best.  The air was crisp and clean, dawn was just breaking over the horizon and everything was still but there was a whisper in the air - a feeling that said soon the world would wake and life would begin anew. 

The silence was broken by the sound of his staff cutting through the air.  Just outside his reach his little menagerie of canines watched their master with loving patience.  Once he was done this he’d take them on their walk of the morning, before he had to deal with his students.  So they sat and waited as Kin whirled his staff, going through his morning ritual of practice.  The staff was not his preferred weapon, but there was something soothing about the rhythm of the dance he did with it.  It focused and centered him - prepared him for a day with the clutch he was training to be the next generation of riders.

The sun rose over the weyrbowl at last, illuminating the area Kin practiced in, revealing glistening skin, and his shirt long since abandoned on the sidelines.  Again and again he went through the patterns of attack and defense, honing his skill, finding his balance.

~*~*~

With a yawn and a stretch, Greenrider B’jam slid down from his dragon’s neck, balancing lightly on the balls of his feet as he hit the ground. With practiced motions, he pulled his staff from the loop in Beruth’s flying straps and balanced it against her side while he tied his shoulder-length hair out of his face.

The early winter air had a nip to it, and the young man shivered slightly as he unfastened his heavy jacket, but he knew once he started exercising he’d warm up quickly.

“Go on back to the weyr, love,” he told his dragon, undoing her straps and giving her a pat on her muzzle. “I’ll call you when I’m done, no need for you to be uncomfortable out here.”

_If you are sure..._ she yawned, before giving B’jam a loving head butt. _I’ll get you when you are done._

The newly transferred greenrider grinned and stepped back, shouldering his staff and the flying straps, turning and heading down the beach as Beruth soared back into the sky. If memory served him right, there was a quiet area around this rocky outcropping that would do fine as a practice area.

He dropped the long leather straps and was pulling off his jacket as he rounded the bend, and came to a dead halt as he was greeted with a vision from one of his dreams.

_Shells, look at him,_ Ben whispered to himself as he stared at the powerful arcs Weyrlingmaster Second K’jan’s arms and staff cut through the air. Work had raised a light gleam of sweat on the older man’s skin and he seemed to glisten in the early morning light. The greenrider didn’t even notice the phalanx of canines watching him, he was too caught up in the practiced moves and the ripple and flex of the bluerider’s muscles as he executed them.

He knew he should leave the other man to his privacy, but somehow he couldn’t, he was rooted to the spot as if nailed there.

It was the sound of Kismet’s cry that brought Kin out of his almost meditative state.  Dropping his staff, the bluerider grabbed his discarded sweatshirt and used it to dry himself off before wrapping it around his arm a few times then holding it aloft.

With a swooping dive, his falcon landed on his wrist, barely using her talons to stabilize herself.  She quickly turned her head almost completely around, in the peculiar way avian could and began to creel softly.  It was only then that Kin realized he was being watched - and that his canines were distracted.

Turning his head slowly, he caught sight of the greenrider he’d noticed briefly prior to the Threadfall a few days ago.  _Shards, he’s glorious._ The older man thought distractedly, as he noticed the younger man’s staff.  Well there was a way to get to know the beautiful stranger.

“You any good with that?” he asked quietly, nodding towards B’jam’s staff.  “I could use a sparring partner if you are and you wouldn’t mind.  I’m K’jan by the way.  The weyrlingmaster second, but I go by Kin.  You are?”

B’jam swallowed to wet his dry mouth, otherwise answering would have been impossible. “B’jam, rider to Beruth,” he answered, relieved that his voice didn’t crack in the middle of the sentence. He’d been on the verge of leaving when K’jan had noticed him and the way those cerulean eyes fixed on him had left a painful lump in the greenrider’s throat. “Friends call me Ben though.”

He looked down at the staff dangling from his hand, then back at the taller bluerider, “And I’ve been told I know how to handle this, I’d enjoy a chance to try out my moves with someone other then the air.”

Kin chuckled softly. “I can’t promise to be an exceptional opponent - I’m better with swords.  But if you don’t mind an audience of the canine variety I’d be more than happy to let you try your moves on me.”  The bluerider motioned with his head to the canines sitting near the outcropping watching the greenrider intently.

“Don’t worry about them though, they’re harmless - unless you win that is,” Kin teased the younger man lightly as he threw Kismet back into the air then dropped the sweatshirt and picked up his staff again.  Quirking an elegant eyebrow, he cocked his head “Ready?”

B’jam quickly stripped off his shirt, tossing toward his straps and jacket. Taking up his staff again, he lightened his stance, gauging the bluerider’s reach and readying himself to respond. “Well, if that’s the case, I suppose you’ll be stuck carrying me to the infirmary to get my wounds treated one way or the other,” he joked. “And I’m ready when you are.”

Kin stared at the younger man for an instant then chuckled wryly.  Cocky - it was the only word that seemed to suit Ben’s attitude, and suite him well.  “Very well _Ben_ have at it then,” K’jan replied jovially, moving into a defensive posture.  He wanted to see just what this pup was made of before he got serious.

B’jam gave the older dragonman a salute, then attacked, his staff a blur of motion in the air as he tested K’jan’s defenses, not moving at full speed yet, but slowly increasing the velocity of his blows. Each blow vibrated up the hard wood plot, stinging his palms and sending vibrations through the muscles of his arms, but Ben gloried in the feel. No matter what he said. Kin was an excellent opponent, of such skill that their moves turned to more of a dance then a battle the longer the sparring went on.

Kin couldn’t remember the last time he’d had this much _fun_.  For it was fun, instead of a sparring match it was more like dancing, and he loved it.  Sweat poured unheeded as their staff’s met time and again, the muted clack of wood and harsh breathing their music.  He lost himself in the rhythm of the dance, and the sparkling blue green eyes of his partner. 

Finally they ended, staffs crossed, bodies pressing closely into one another.  Chests heaved and eyes sparked and sang.  And Weyrlingmaster Second K’jan did something so out of the ordinary he could scarce believe it.  He bent down and kissed Ben softly on the lips as passion took the place of the thrill of the dance.

Surprised both by the kiss and the answering desire he saw in the older man’s eyes, B’jam pulled back a little, his gaze locked on K’jan’s gaze. “Wow,” he murmured in between gasps for breath, “that was great.” He didn’t say whether he meant the sparring or the kiss and in truth, meant both. “Care to try again?”

Kin wasn’t entirely sure what possessed him but he found himself answering the greenrider in a rather bold way. “Yes... to both.”

Ben’s blue-green eyes sparkled and he grinned in pleasure and anticipation. Any idea when?”

“I’m here every morning to practice at least one weapon.  As for the other.  I’ll leave that up to you,” Kin grinned.  “Meanwhile.  I got some dogs to take back to the kennels and some breakfast to eat before I wake up my weyrlings.  Care to join me for a cup of klah - Ben?”

The greenrider’s expression turned musing at K’jan’s first comment, then he chuckled. “I’d love to - as long as helping wake those weyrlings isn’t included in the invitation. I remember all too well what it was like being the one woken - and my second always managed to have a bucket of ice water handy for those who wanted ‘just a few minutes more’.”

“Now that was rather cruel of you - giving me such wicked ideas. I would never have thought of that but ...” Kin considered the example and found great merit to waking up recalcitrant weyrlings in such a manner. Object lessons tended to be learned much more quickly than a simple verbal lesson.

Letting one part of his mind peruse the options, Kin picked up his sweatshirt and for the second time used it to wipe off the excess perspiration. Picking up the muscle shirt that lay next to it, he slipped it over his head and called the dogs to heel. “No, waking up my trainee’s isn’t part of the invitation. Simply keeping me company while I put these fellows away and during breakfast is all I’m asking of you.”

Winking at the younger man he picked up his staff and held out a hand. “Come meet part of the menagerie.”

B’jam bent to scoop up his shirt and flight jacket, pulling them on to help cut some of the bitter wind that was threatening to chill his torso. Settling Beruth’s straps over his shoulder, he grasped Kin’s hand, grinning

as he did so. “Just so long as they don’t try to eat me, I’d be glad to.”

“Actually I owe these handsome lads and lady a good walk, care to join me for a twice around the lake?” Kin asked, softly.

“Besides,” he continued. “They’re not the one you have to worry about,” wicked mirth dancing in his eyes as Kin watched with blatant appreciation while Ben dressed himself.  “You find it cold out here?  Hmm - will have to see what I can do to warm you up,” Kin paused for a long heartbeat, “find that Klah always works for warming the blood,” he teased as he motioned for his pets to come forward.

“This is Scamp - he’s the oldest, a breed of Dane, 10 Turns old,” Kin started by way of introductions.  “It’s all right to pet them all - they’re very friendly.  I often let the weyrchildren play with them, when I’m helping to wash and oil Lorth.  They love attention, and he loves to be scratched between his ears.”

“The huge shaggy one next to him is Scoundrel, he’s a Wolfhound, and he’s six Turns old.  The smaller children use him like a pony when they get the chance and he lets them.  He just ambles along, a child squealing on his back, as if nothing unusual was happening.  He’s extremely gentle.”

“And last for today, is Mischief, or Missy.  She’s just a puppy - a hound, only six months old.  She doesn’t walk, she races from place to place until she’s so exhausted she needs to be carried.  She stays in my weyr with me and Minx, the Benden blue I have, the others stay in the kennels - they’re happier there and it’s a lot easier than having Lorth carry them up and down from my weyr.  So - now you’ve met the canines - completely harmless, unless you consider getting licked to death a violent way to go,” the weyrlingmaster second teased.

“I, on the other hand don’t think that’s a horrible way to go - depending on who’s doing the licking of course.” He continued to tease outrageously, enjoying himself immensely.

By the end of the introductions, B’jam’s head was spinning. Trying to keep all the canines straight was hard enough, but then there was the added distraction of K’jan’s double-entendres - if that was what they were. “Ummm yeah ...” he said before clearing his throat to give himself time to think.

“Maybe next time I should bring a scrap of hide to make notes on.” This was added with a grin as the greenrider got back some of his equilibrium. “That way I can remember everything that you’ve told me. Never know when some of it may come in handy.”” For a moment Ben was tempted to ask Beruth to sneak

up behind Kin and lick him—just to test the theory that being licked to death wasn’t a bad way to go, but he refrained. “And how far do you usually walk them? Any chance of going near the seahold pub? I know their cook puts together quite a meal and I haven’t eaten yet.”

“Can do one better greenrider.  Means we need that scrap of hide though - maybe ...” Kin trailed off and his eyes glazed over a bit.  In his weyr his bronze flit, Rascal, came awake at his master’s summons.  Kin showed him a very precise picture of what he wanted brought and in a flash the little flit was grasping a scrap of hide and a charcoal stick between his fore talons as he went _between_ to join his master, reappearing over the bluerider’s head.

Warbling a good morning, the flit carefully landed on K’jan’s shoulder, dangling said items till the rider took them from him, then proceeded to curl himself around his master’s shoulder, all the while watching the strange man nearby.  “Oh yeah, and this is Rascal - my flit,” Kin replied off-handedly.

“So why don’t you write down what you’d like for breakfast, and I can send this handsome lad to your friend the cook with our order so it’s ready by the time we get there.”  Holding out the hide and charcoal stick to his companion, Kin chuckled softly at the incredibly bemused expression on Ben’s face.  “The names get easier with time.  I promise.”

_Canines, feline, hawk, flitter ..._ B’jam mentally tallied up the number of pets the older man possessed, his eyes widening at the total and what it must cost to care for them all. “Good thing they don’t all stay in your weyr,” he chuckled, accepting the writing implements and scribbling a note to his brother Jestin, the cook at the inn. “There wouldn’t be room in your bed for you.”

Assuming a totally innocent expression, Ben then glanced up at K’jan, his eyebrows raised in a query. “And what can I get for you?”

Kin was going to reply with his wants for breakfast, he truly was.  Unfortunately what he wanted for breakfast wasn’t what came out of his mouth.  Or perhaps it was what he truly wanted.  “Ohh, how about ... you, in my bed?”

B’jam tried to hide his surprise and interest in Kin’s comment, laughing it off as a joke. “I don’t think Jestin has that on the menu, but I can ask if you want. Just have Rascal be careful, Jes doesn’t like flits in his kitchen and has been known to toss a knife or two at them.”

In all actuality he wanted to offer up the meal the bluerider had requested on the spot, but it was too soon. He wanted more then a roll in the furs with this man and if waiting some got it, then it was all for the better.

Kin bit back a chuckle.  In truth, he was glad the younger man took what he said as a joke.  He wanted to - oh how he wanted to.  But he wanted a long lasting relationship more, and this young man was someone that Kin knew he could love, forever, but first he wanted to get to know the man.

“Rascal knows how to duck - and fast - when he has too,” the bluerider chuckled.  Taking the hide from his younger companion, he quickly scribbled his order down and sent the bronze on his way. “Shall we get going greenrider?” he asked, slinging a companionable arm around Ben and calling his canines to heel.

“On to the food, Weyrlingmaster Second,” Ben laughed, winding his arm around the older man’s waist as they started walking toward the tunnel that led to the seahold. Privately, B’jam thought they must look quite the picture with the canines trailing along behind them.

Kin smiled down at his young companion, happier than he could remember.  “Why do I get the feeling this is just the start of a beautiful friendship?” he chuckled, bending to place a quick kiss on the other man’s lips.


End file.
